


A 'simple' misunderstanding

by Esinde Nayrall (red_squared)



Series: The Scorching One [12]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Community: rs_small_gifts, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-12-08
Updated: 2008-12-08
Packaged: 2017-10-09 19:04:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/90545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/red_squared/pseuds/Esinde%20Nayrall
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In hindsight, it should have come as no surprise that one of them lost everything, and the other one spent twelve years in prison.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A 'simple' misunderstanding

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mindabbles](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mindabbles/gifts).



> Notes/Extras: Written for the 2008 [](http://community.livejournal.com/rs_small_gifts/profile)[**rs_small_gifts**](http://community.livejournal.com/rs_small_gifts/) exchange for [](http://mindabbles.livejournal.com/profile)[**mindabbles**](http://mindabbles.livejournal.com/) and originally posted [**here**](http://community.livejournal.com/rs_small_gifts/57881.html). Thanks to [](http://midnitemaraud-r.livejournal.com/profile)[**midnitemaraud_r**](http://midnitemaraud-r.livejournal.com/)/[](http://midnitemarauder.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://midnitemarauder.livejournal.com/)**midnitemarauder** for beta-ing this and for firmly talking me down from plot points that would have required another 77000 words to fully flesh out :D

****  
_Sirius_  


"If you're Sirius," Remus says, holding his wand in front of himself protectively, "then you'll be able to tell me what my mother's surname is."

Of all the things he expected to find when he finally located Remus, being questioned at wand point wasn't even _near _the top of the list. He's about to say so, when he realises...

"That's not the question Remus and I agreed on," he says, raising his own wand arm.

They'd agreed on two questions each — one to identify the other if there were other people around them, and one to identify the other if they were alone together.

And since James is keeping an eye on the others in the next room, and since the only other person in _this_ room is Prewett, who is face down and unconscious, Remus lowers his voice, and says, "Then you'd better tell me when our anniversary is."

"Which one?"

"The real one."

"_Your_ real one, or my real—"

"Oh, for fuck's sake. Of course it's you, nobody else would argue about something so petty when—" Remus starts to say.

"Not so fast! How long is it—"

"Sirius, this is actually more for my benefit than for yours, since I can't _be_ Polyjuiced."

"How long is it between your 'real' anniversary, and mine?"

Remus looks at him tiredly. "Seven months. Mine is New Year's Eve, when I kissed you for the first time. But you insist on the 20th of July."

They had got together on New Year's Eve, back when they were in fifth year. Then Remus had dropped him, got back together with him, dropped him, got back together with him, and then _Sirius _had ended it, and they'd both finally come to their senses in July, decided to give it another try, and they'd been together ever since.

"Why're you here?" Remus asks, finally, _finally_, lowering his wand. "What's happened?"

"Nothing's happ— What do you mean, why am I here? Aren't you..." He gestures at Prewett, who still isn't moving. "Aren't you being detained?"

"Aren't I what?" Remus asks, looking puzzled.

"You were supposed to have come home three days ago," he says, the events of the past week finally catching up with him. "You've never been _this _late, not without sending another message, and...you know, after Dearborn went missing eight months ago, we're all supposed to say when we expect to be back."

Healer Dearborn, Sirius' direct supervisor, had had a habit of going away for days — and sometimes weeks — on end to work on things for the Order. For his last mission, it had been at least three weeks since any of the Order had last seen him before it had occurred to them that something untoward might have happened to him. And while Moody is convinced that Dearborn is dead, all of their efforts have been unable to uncover a body, much less a cause of death.

That had put a stop to all independent activity on the part of Order members. Regardless of how senior or how capable they were, every wizard and witch had to provide an estimated date of return to at least _one _other member.

"But I'm not late," Remus says. "And I _did _say when I'd be back. I left you a note."

Sirius had been at Saint Mungo's on one of his ninety-six hour shifts when Remus had left.

"A note to say you'd be back later than you thought?"

"No, just that first one," Remus says, frowning in irritation.

"In which you said you'd be home by Saturday," he points out.

"I said '_next _Saturday'."

"Yes, but you said 'next Saturday' _last_ week, which means you meant Saturday just gone."

"No, I..." Remus says, sounding puzzled. "If I'd meant Saturday just gone, I would have said 'this Saturday'. But I said 'next Saturday', which means four days from today."

"'Next Saturday' means the _next _Saturday," he says, frowning back. "As in, _the very next one_."

"No, '_this _Saturday' refers to the very next one," Remus says. "Because it's the Saturday for _this same _week."

"No, it doesn't."

"Yes, it— Fine. Then what does 'this Saturday' refer to?"

"The Saturday that's today."

"Today's Tuesday."

"I _know _that! I _mean_ you only say 'this Saturday' when it's _actually_ Saturday. Prongs agrees with me," he adds defensively, when he sees Remus roll his eyes.

"Prongs _always_ agrees with you. That doesn't mean you're right. So. You're telling me you've assumed that the three Order members with me are traitors, knocked them out, and blasted through all of our defences, simply because you got the wrong Saturday?"

He stalks over to Remus at that, tired of being talked down to.

"No, I've spent the last three days trying to reach you by owl, trying to get a message through to you by Dumbledore or by Meadowes, and hoping you weren't being Cruciated into insanity, but I'll tell you what. Next time you're late, I'll leave a good four weeks — just in case I've misunderstood what _month_ we're talking about — before I come looking for you, and—"

"I'm not. Actually. Late," Remus says testily.

"I wasn't to know. Besides which, the least you could have done was respond to one of my owls!"

"I didn't…" Remus' expression shifts from irritation to worry. "I didn't get any of your owls."

"I sent five. They all came back without having delivered my message."

"You didn't try a Patronus?"

"How do you think we tracked you down?"

"We?"

"Prongs helped me…"

"I should have known. Prongs _always_—"

"…since I couldn't get mine to work."

"Since... Oh," Remus says softly, before taking a step toward him.

"Yeah."

"I imagine it must be difficult to find a happy memory when you're worried that your boyfriend's being Cruciated?"

"Or dead," he says, starting to feel ridiculous now, since Remus clearly isn't tortured.

_Or dead. Idiot._

"Poor pet," Remus murmurs, leaning forward and brushing his lips against Sirius' cheek. "But I'm _not_ late. Everything's gone to plan. Well, apart from you Apparating in and knocking the rest of the team out cold, but that's just a…temporary setback. I'll be home on Saturday, okay?"

"Okay. I mean... I'm sorry, too," he murmurs, leaning into Remus so that he doesn't have to look at him as he says it.

"It's all right."

"No, I mean… You're not late, and I… This hasn't ruined everything for you, has it?"

"It's just a temporary setback, like I said."

"I thought—"

"I know."

"And I couldn't get an answer from anywhere, and so I—"

"I _know_. It's all right, you did the right thing under the circumstances, and—"

"And Friday's Full," he whispers. "I thought you'd be back before you… you'll have to transform, and… Do the others know?"

Remus hesitates slightly before saying, "Yes, the others know."

"It won't affect your task?" When Remus doesn't answer straight away, he adds, "Or…or is it part of your task?"

"Sirius?" James calls from outside. "You found him yet?"

"Yeah, I've found him, Prongs!" he calls back, trying to turn to face James properly, which only makes Remus hold on harder. "He wasn't in any danger."

_Not from the Order, at any rate._

"So the Fenwick and Podmore out there are the real things?" James asks incredulously. "What are they playing at, then? Your security can't be much good if Padfoot and I could take them by surprise."

"They weren't expecting an attack from the likes of you," Remus tells James wearily.

"They weren't expecting an attack at _all_," James says, saving Sirius from having to say it.

Perhaps Podmore and Fenwick hadn't been expecting an attack, but Prewett had. It had taken a good ten minutes — which felt more like a day — of duelling to get past him and into the room where Remus was being kept.

_The room where Remus was staying, not where he was being kept._

"They _were_," Remus says. "We _all_ were. But the wards have been set to allow Order members through without triggering an alarm, and they wouldn't have been expecting an attack from _you_," Remus adds.

"You still have a security problem, if owls weren't able to get through," Sirius says, since Remus is acting as though James is solely responsible for knocking out three Order members.

His hunch is confirmed when Remus looks up at him in surprise, as though he's forgotten all about him.

"Yes, okay," Remus says, relaxing slightly. "You two'd better get out of here before—"

"What, and leave you here with three unconscious Order members?" James asks incredulously. "I'll take care of Podmore and Fenwick," he adds, starting to move off.

"Do them one at a time!" he calls out after James.

"You say that as if I can't handle two angry Order members at the same time," James laughs as he walks off.

"You should leave this to me," Remus insists.

"And have them think this was your fault? Or your idea?" he asks Remus. They should really start reviving the others, but he doesn't want to move just yet. He bends forward again, leaning into Remus and pressing his nose against Remus' forehead. "We'll revive them, explain everything and then... Do you want us to— Do you want _me _to stay? Or...or come back for Friday night?"

"No. I mean, I _do_ want you to stay, but the others don't know you're an Animagus. Besides, you'll need to be fully rested so that you can look after _me _when I get back."

He ignores the teasing tone in Remus' voice, because something has just occurred to him. "Are they using you as bait for other werewolves?"

"I can't tell you that."

"Then _think_ it loudly enough for me to hear." Remus looks up at him without saying anything. "That's a 'yes'."

Remus laughs. "So _that_ you can understand, but when I spell things out in actual words—"

"It _was_ a 'yes'," he presses, wanting a straight answer.

"You didn't hear it from me," Remus says quietly, before stretching up again to kiss him. "I'll see you on Saturday."

__  
**~~*~~**  


Remus

There was no point going to Saint Mungo's, because of the two Order members employed by Saint Mungo's, Sirius wasn't scheduled on, and Dearborn was still missing (presumed dead). While he'd told Prewett and the others that he'd be fine getting back home on his own, he'd assumed that Sirius would actually _be there_ to help him into bed.

Instead, there'd been nothing to greet him but a note with a neatly scribed apology, a promise that Sirius would be back by next weekend, and a circle untidily scrawled around the word 'next weekend' with an arrow pointing to today's date.

_So, he wrote the note today. Does 'next weekend' mean one week, or two weeks from today?_

Just thinking about it makes his head hurt so much that he doesn't bother even trying to make it to his room. Instead, he staggers over to the sofa and collapses onto it face down.

He would swear he'd only been asleep for a little while, but when he wakes up, he's in his bed, everything hurts less, and he can smell Sirius close by.

"Did it work?" Sirius asks from the other side of the room.

"Mmm?"

"Was your task successful?" Sirius asks, sounding much closer.

"Nnn."

"Go back to sleep," Sirius tells him, standing next to the bed and running a hand through Remus' hair.

He does.

After a much longer rest — at least, it feels longer because he feels rested — he wakes up again to find that night has fallen. All of his injuries have either been healed or bound up in Acromantula-silk gauze.

Since Dearborn disappeared, Sirius has more than once talked about leaving Saint Mungo's and working either freelance or exclusively for the Order. _One_ benefit of Sirius continuing to work at Saint Mungo's was that he could 'borrow' materials and tools directly from the hospital.

Most of the potions ingredients and some of the more potent potions themselves are heavily protected and warded, but entire cartons of gauze or anti-nausea syrup can go missing and nobody notices anything.

He gets out of bed and goes looking for Sirius. It doesn't take long to find him — the study is the only room that is lit. Sirius is at their desk, going through what looks like hospital paperwork.

_No paperwork if he quits. But then we'd have to **pay **for the expensive, non-chafing gauze. _

"Thought you weren't back until _next _weekend. Whenever that is," he says by way of greeting.

"I wrote down the date I'd be back," Sirius says calmly, without looking up.

"I thought that was the date you'd written the note." Sirius smiles at this, still focussing on his paperwork. "You haven't even been to work for the past few days. How can you have so many patient notes?"

"These aren't mine, they're my Trainee's," Sirius says, setting the parchment down and looking up at him at last. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine now. How bad was it?"

Sirius frowns. "You looked the worst I've ever seen you. Even worse than you were before you had the three of us to keep you company."

"Can't be helped. I was fighting with the other werewolves for the most of the night," he says darkly. Sirius gives him a worried look at that. "It was only fair. I was in their territory uninvited. They weren't too pleased, and made sure I knew it."

"Remus..."

"And the worst part is that it wasn't even successful," he says, trying to keep his voice light. "I mean, we were able to lure in two of the other werewolves. We were so _close_. Prewett and Podmore had them cornered, but... Both of them managed to Apparate away to safety almost as soon as the moon set and they'd transformed back."

"As soon as... Weren't they in pain?" Sirius asks, looking confused.

"Yeah. But they're a lot tougher than I am," he says. Just remembering it — and he can only vaguely recall it, because he was transforming back himself — makes him want to vomit. The thought of doing _any_ magic after transforming makes him queasy, but to _Apparate_... "So we've decided it's no good trying to capture one or two and question them. Someone will have to join up with them. Or at least convince them that he's seriously considering it."

"Someone," Sirius says flatly. "You mean you."

"Can you think of anybody else?"

"It could be me. I can transform."

"Into a wolf hound. Not into a wolf."

"As if any of them would remember the next day anyway. Writhe in agony, sprout fur, and then repeat the next month." It shouldn't do, but Sirius' words make him smile. "There _is_ going to be a repeat next month, isn't there."

"Not quite. Next month, hopefully, we might actually capture one or two of the werewolves that are loyal to Voldemort."

Sirius doesn't object, but his expression makes it very clear that this will be something the two of them will need to discuss as soon as Remus regains his strength.

"Well, then. At least now I know to wait until after Full to come looking for you," Sirius says, trying to smile.

"Any word on Dearborn?" He asks every day. Sirius most likely hasn't been into Saint Mungo's today, but he would have gone in at some stage since Remus saw him last.

"No," Sirius says softly.

He walks over to Sirius and squirms in between Sirius' chair and the spare bed, wrapping his arms around Sirius from behind. In the last three months, the Order has lost not just Dearborn, but also Peter's girlfriend Marlene, who was murdered along with her entire family.

"What about your brother?" he asks, because it isn't just Order members who are casualties of this war.

"No," Sirius says again, staring blankly at his paperwork. "Or if there has been, she hasn't seen fit to tell me."

"I've no intention of vanishing without a trace," he says quietly, smoothing a hand across Sirius' cheek before brushing Sirius' hair away from his eyes. "And I'm always with at least Prewett or Podmore. We'll be careful," he promises.

"What 'we'? They're…" Sirius stops and laughs without any humour. "It's _you_ they're throwing to the wolves. Have they even worked out why we weren't able to owl you?"

"No."

"But they're looking into it," Sirius says, tilting his head back so that he can see Remus.

He shrugs, and Sirius doesn't press the issue. All of the security charms and wards are handled by the Aurors in the Order, and ever since they lost Marlene, he and Sirius — and Peter and James — no longer have any insight as to how often the spells are updated or changed, or even how they work.

"Well, they certainly don't want a repeat of what happened this week. Order members attacking other Order members isn't really a winning strategy." he says.

"Mmm," Sirius murmurs, closing his eyes and pressing back into him. "Well, at the very least, since there're going to be more trips away for you, we should reach some agreement on what 'next weekend' means."

"_Or_ you could just write down the date of when you're expecting to get back."

"I _did_, and you still—"

"The date you've written the note, _and_ the date you expect to be back."

Sirius laughs. "With arrows pointing to each one."

"Naturally. I mean, nobody's drawn up formal battle lines, but this is still a war, after all. It would be stupid if we were to lose lives over something trivial, like a simple misunderstanding."

**Author's Note:**

> All comments and kudos are appreciated and treasured -- even (especially?) on a fic as old as this one!


End file.
